“Look at her.  She’s trying to be brave.  Do you think she loves him, Gavin?” Lorenzo said.  “It’s so precious.”

Gavin let his head fall back into the chair.  “Shut up, you little prick.  Why do I have to be here?”

“Witnesses, my dear man.”  Suddenly Lorenzo’s tone took on a more serious bent.  “I’m making a deal with my father, and I need an impartial observer.  Everyone knows your reputation, Wallace.  That’s why you’re here.”

“Fine,” the Scotsman huffed.  “But I’m pouring myself another drink.”

The room was quiet, except for the clink of Gavin’s glass, and Beatrice could hear Giovanni’s steps cross the courtyard.  He paused before the door opened, and she wondered what he was planning as he looked at the bodies of the men he had hired to keep her safe.

Lorenzo gave her another giddy smile, and she was reminded of a Botticelli angel again.  She looked away from him and glanced toward the dining room where she and Giovanni had eaten her cake the night before.

Instead of the usual candles that decorated the table, she saw stacks and stacks of books, bound in an assortment of dark leathers, spilling onto the chairs, even some that lay on the ground.  They were assorted sizes and appeared to be different ages.  There were scrolls and stacks of loose vellum, along with a series of large, identical books with a small stack of parchment on top of them.

“The books,” she whispered.

Lorenzo followed her eyes.  “Oh, you’ve spotted my surprise!  I thought you’d appreciate them.  I brought all of Papà’s precious books.  Now we will see why he was so excited at the library, won’t we?”

Beatrice looked at the vampire, confusion evident in her face, but he only smiled at her, his eyes burning with delight.

She turned when she heard the door from the kitchen open.  Giovanni walked in, and she could see the flush on his cheeks indicating he had fed.  His eyes swept the two strange vampires in his living room, and he examined the stack of books on the dining room table with only a cocked eyebrow before he turned to Gavin and Lorenzo lounging in front of the fire.

He curled his lip at his son then looked at Gavin, before finally, he let his eyes wander to her.  He wore the same blank expression he’d often worn when they first started working together.  She bit her lip, hoping to quell the tears that threatened to surface.

Giovanni walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of scotch before he sat down in his armchair.  Gavin sat across from him, looking bored, but nodding politely toward his host.  Lorenzo sat on the couch, almost bouncing in excitement, and Beatrice sat frozen next to him, willing Giovanni to give her some sign they would be okay.

“Why were you sitting in my chair, Lorenzo?” he finally spoke.  “You know I hate that.”

Lorenzo let out a shrill laugh.  “I know, but I had to try it.  Your scent and the girl’s were all over it.”  He winked at Beatrice.  “Naughty human.”

“What do you want?  I’m tired.”

Lorenzo looked at the clock over the mantel.  “It’s barely nine-thirty!”

“Let me clarify.  I’m tired of your company.”

“Fine,” Lorenzo said.  “But you take all the fun out of everything.”

“What do you—”

“I do wonder,” Lorenzo interrupted, and took a moment to brush the hair away from Beatrice’s neck, keeping his eyes on Giovanni as he leaned closer.  “Where do you bite her?  I’ve been looking and I can’t see a mark on her.”

“None of your business.”

He paused to inhale at her throat and his soft blond curls brushed her chin, making her shudder and tense.

“Because you do bite her, don’t you?  I mean, why else would her scent be all over your house?” Lorenzo ducked his head back to her neck and took another predatory breath.  “And I do mean all over,” he said in a hoarse growl.

Gavin interrupted.  “Lorenzo, I have things to do.  Get on with it.”

Beatrice was still blinking back tears, staring at the motionless Giovanni, who gave her no sign or acknowledgement.  She bit her lip to hold in the cry that wanted to escape when she felt Lorenzo’s hands.  The cold that had started in her stomach when she saw the murdered guards had spread to her chest, and a chill crept across her skin everywhere he touched.

“I’m just wondering where you bite her.  But maybe that’s not your favorite place?”  He smirked and stared into Giovanni’s impassive gaze.  “How about her wrists?”

Lorenzo made a show of checking both wrists.  “Nope, nothing there…and nothing on her neck that I can see.”  A cold finger ran up her neck, starting at her collarbone and reaching her jaw.  She jumped and a small whimper left her throat.

“And what a lovely neck she has,” he whispered.  Beatrice could no longer hold back, and tears began to trace down her cheeks.

“You curly haired git,” Gavin groaned.  “Hands off the blood until you make the deal.  She’s not yours, so stop acting like an ass and get on with it. Or I’m leaving and I’ll let him burn you to a crisp if he wants.”

But Lorenzo didn’t stop, and nausea roiled in her stomach as his cold hand approached her thighs.